


What Are You Doing In My Room?

by Noel_Radcliff



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Baptiste is a good bro, Because Reader is thirsty, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dreaming, Excessive Drinking, Gender-neutral Reader, Hungover Reader, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Into Our World AU, Jacket Kink, Lazy Mornings, Light BDSM, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Out of character characters, References to Depression, Sleep Deprivation, Suicide Attempt, cute moments, wink wink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2019-11-27 01:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18188264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noel_Radcliff/pseuds/Noel_Radcliff
Summary: No, you were already awake, nor did you hit your head or drank too much. Honestly, it could just be all of the above and it still wouldn’t explain why the characters from a video game are in your room right now.It’s Reader x Everyone in Overwatch. Some are cute, romantic, funny, sad, and some are just downright annoying to wake up to in the morning.





	1. The Overwatch Ensemble and You...in your room.

**D. Va aka Hana Song** **/ Video Games and Doritos at 6**

You blinked twice; the first time your eyes opened from your sleep you thought you heard someone gasp and curse at the same time. You were curious; you’re pretty sure you went home by yourself from last night’s party. You were too sleep-deprived and possibly hungover to realize that somebody is in the room with you right now.

And that realization made you blink again, your body shooting up from the covers as you looked around. Immediately, you can see a lithe figure sitting by _your computer_ playing _your games_ at six fucking o’clock in the morning. It also didn’t help that you recognize this person immediately even though you’re so sure it’s not possible for them to even be here.

“D. Va?” You can’t even tell if you’re shocked or mad or amazed. Or maybe it’s all of it at the same time. The small figure by your desktop didn’t even acknowledge you; she’s too damn busy fussing with your setup. “Oooh. Your PC isn’t the best. I’m a console player myself but this is really slow.” She said to herself, her familiar Korean accent filling your ears.

On your desk lay an open bag of Doritos, at which she’s snacking at. She finally turned to you, noting your rapidly blinking eyes and bed hair. “Ah, _annyeong-haseyo_! Hope you don’t mind, I was bored waiting for you to wake up so I couldn’t resist.”

* * *

**Orisa / Puppy Dreams**

You’re probably still dreaming. It can’t _fucking_ be possible for a large, quadrupedal robot to even fit your room in the first place!

You didn’t move from your bed, your eyes wide as you watched it examine your room with an almost childlike curiosity. It also didn’t help your hungover mind that it looked exactly like Orisa from your video game too. You remembered drinking the night before while you played a few games with your friends. You also remembered maining Orisa for the last three games, all hard won, and dropping dead on your bed.

Or maybe you’re still playing the game, and Orisa right now is just picking up a stuffed dog off your desk with interest. You watched her, suddenly curious on what she thinks of it. You’re in a dream anyways, might as well indulge.

“Isn’t it cute?” Your sudden voice caused her to suddenly drop it, like a child getting caught in the act with their hand in the cookie jar. Orisa didn’t say anything for a while until nodding happily to you. She picked up the stuffed animal from the floor and handed it to you.

“A real one would be cute too.”

* * *

**Reinhardt Wilhelm / Morning Voice**

You thought you woke up to the sound of your alarm, ringing nonstop. You groaned when your hand kept missing that damn object to turn it off, until you blearily opened your eyes just to find it. You then took in the view of a _giant_ standing right in front of your bed, your manuscript in his hand and his loud voice reading it out loud.

“‘And so, the hero rose from the ground, sword in hand, as he looked at his enemy dead in the eyes.’ Oh ho! Such bravery, a true hero indeed!” The man clad in the bulkiest armor you’ve ever seen laughed heartily. You jumped out of bed as you snatched your notebook away. “What the hell; who are you and why are you in my room?!” You almost screamed; partially afraid to disturb the neighbors and because you were still hungover from last night’s heavy drinking.

The man looked at you, confused, until his aging face let out  a bright smile and _another_ boom of laughter. “My apologies, _fraulein,_ I just noticed your wonderful writing on your desk and couldn’t help myself. Tales of the warrior’s spirit and their fight for justice enthralls me!” He said and you covered your ears, his voice ringing constantly.

Your head hurts and you woke up to a creepy old man reading your story. He does look familiar to you. No, you _know_ that you know him. The armor, that obnoxiously loud voice, that on point German accent. “Reinhardt..?” You surveyed him again, and it’s just too surreal to be cosplay now.

“Forgive an old man’s late introduction,” He grinned sheepishly to you. “Reinhardt, at your service!”

* * *

**Roadhog aka Mako Rutledge / Heavy Snoring**

You groaned at the smell of motor oil and dust. Did you fell asleep in the garage again? Not that you remember. Your friend helped you back to your room after you were forced to chug three pints of beer. Your head was still a sopping mess, and it got worse the moment you opened your eyes.

Expecting a ray of sunshine embalming you from your window, you found yourself face to face with a gas mask. You yelped, suddenly kicking your sheets. Your back met the wall as you took in the sight of a large man laying down beside you. He had the most impressive array of tattoos scattered around his body, and you can’t help but notice his protruding belly has a tattoo of a pig.

He looked like he didn’t hear you yell, as he was snoring so loudly, still asleep. You gazed at him with obvious concern. Why does he look so familiar to you? To confirm your thoughts, you checked the tattoo on his belly again. “Roadhog..?” You whispered, out of fear.

Did your friend lie to you while you had sex with a Roadhog cosplayer last night? You’re not sure, but you’re about to call them up right now. Or maybe you call the cops first? Jesus christ why is this happening to you so early in the morning?

You tried to look for your phone, scattered somewhere in the sheets, when a heavy hand rested on your shoulder. You gulped, scared that he might manhandle you. His rough, sleepy voice however, made you think otherwise. “Stop fussing. It’s still so early.” He had a deep voice, sounding _exactly_ like Roadhog, that you can’t help but sit there in shock.

His hand still on your shoulder, you slowly crept back to your pillow. You decided to sleep it off despite his heavy snoring, your head’s still hurting and aching from last night. When you wake up, hopefully he doesn’t do anything bad or it’s all just a dream.

* * *

**Winston / Trying Your Best**

Yesterday, you had a bad time at work and an equally bad night of ranked games. You lost every single one of those and you were so pissed you washed your problems away with a six-pack you had lying around.

When you woke up, you failed to see that there’s a gorilla sitting on the floor beside your bed. In fact, you didn’t see anything wrong with a gorilla sitting in your room, let alone that said gorilla looks exactly like your main man--animal Winston. Double-fact, it made you depressed seeing him there, convinced that he came to haunt you in your dreams for losing all those matches.

“Winston,” You choked, tears coming out of your eyes. The Winston look-alike flinched at the sight of you crying. Honestly, he’s more surprised that you weren’t freaking out right now, or maybe you are; he’s not sure of how humans freak out.

“I’m so sorry, man.” Now he’s even more confused. What are you sorry about? It’s obvious that this is your room (he was definitely not looking at your stuff while you were asleep) and he was the one intruding, so why are you apologizing?

“I tried so hard, I-I...failed…” You were sobbing and at this point Winston was torn apart feeling sorry for you and not knowing what to do. This is a peculiar situation for him, and while you're just here crying, convinced that he's disappointed in you.

“I’m bronze again!”

* * *

**Wrecking Ball aka Hammond / Hamster, Not A Rat**

You thought you heard something scuttling inside your room. Your eyes flew open; the thought of rats infesting your humble abode sickened you. You dislike hurting animals, but you also don’t want them ruining your stuff.

You tentatively peeked through your sheets. For some odd reason, there’s a spherical hunk of metal on the floor beside your bed, and on top of it, stood a hamster. It was busy taking your alarm clock apart, soft clicks and its small feet scuttling gave your room an almost comfortable atmosphere with how adorable the animal looked.

You blinked. You’re probably still dreaming. The fact that this thing looks like Hammond was almost making you want to sleep again. At least it’s not a rat, you sleepily thought.

* * *

**Zarya aka Aleksandra Zaryanova / Morning Routine**

“Wake up, _myshka_!”

You were forcefully woken up by someone dragging your ass off the bed. You blearily opened your eyes, adrenaline somewhat pumping your veins. You then took in the form of one muscular looking lady standing over you, fists pumped to her hips with an expression akin to a sports coach on her face. “ _Dobroe utro_ , _myshka!_ You need to do your morning exercises now.” She said and in your hungover state, you wondered if you accidentally hired a trainer last night.

You picked yourself up from the floor, head aching and body sore. “W-wha...what, who..?” You can’t seem to form coherent words at the moment, and the woman in front of you clucked her tongue.

“You seem wasted, _myshka_. You need to shape up.” She had pink hair atop her lovely face, and then you suddenly remembered that Zarya that ‘toblesteined’ your party last night, earning her that Play of the Game and causing you and your team that match.

You groaned, suddenly wanting to go back to sleep, but the stranger that looked like Zarya already held your arm, dragging you outside to work out that hangover of yours. And then maybe later, when you’re completely sober and conscious, you’d realized that the actual Zarya is right there beside you, berating you on your health and questionable dietary habits.

* * *

**Ashe aka Elizabeth Caledonia, the 'Calamity' / Interrogation**

When you woke up, you found yourself tied up to your bedpost. Your first instinct was to scream, but your muffled shouts against a thick piece of cloth stuffed to your mouth disabled you from doing so. “Well, well. Who do we have here?”

Your head then turned to see a scarily-sexy young woman sitting cross-legged on your gaming chair like a throne, and a gigantic robot standing beside her. It was such a familiar scene, judging from her clothes and white hair, that you can’t help but wonder if this is who you think it is, “Af?” You tried to say her name through the gag.

The woman smiled derisively through her red lipstick. “Bob,” She gestured to the robot beside her. “Do something.” It seemed to obey her and for an awful moment, you thought he was going to charge at you and drill bullets into your body, but then he just simply took the gag off your mouth, rendering you back your speech.

You coughed and inhaled; how long have you been gagged? “Now,” She sauntered towards you, her rifle in hand as she gripped your jaw to face her. “I think I asked you a question.”

“Who are you and where am I?”

* * *

**Bastion aka SST Laboratories Siege Automaton E54 / Beside You Making Breakfast**

You thought long and hard that you weren’t dreaming. How could you, when you’re actually touching Bastion’s hand?

You were so surprised you can’t even scream, after waking up to your nightmares of Bastions chasing you in its tank form. When you saw it tentatively looking at you in a childlike demeanor, you deduced that you’ve finally gone insane and it’s time to stop playing ranked.

It’s certainly odd, seeing that Bastion’s there by your side as you made breakfast, like a pet. You wanted to chuckle at the surrealness of it all. Last night, you were so happy; you finally got Play of the Game as Bastion even though it shouldn’t be that hard. But months of playing support heroes had you hesitating on playing as a cold-blooded murderer.

You made yourself coffee and pancakes, your eyes flitting towards the robot beside you at times to make sure you’re still sane. To confirm your thoughts, the small yellow bird Ganymede was there, sitting atop its shoulder. You’d catch it looking between you and your skillet, obviously so amazed of its predicament right now. You yourself were amazed that you didn’t call the cops yet, or Blizzard asking if this copyright infringement.

But now, as you carefully looked over your coffee, this robot doesn’t seem to be the mass murderer you accustomed to know. If it makes sense, Bastion reminds you of a dog. And it’s so adorable seeing its interactions with Ganymede and the sounds it makes.

You wondered if you can keep it.

* * *

**Doomfist aka Akande Ogundimu the Successor / We Should Get To Know Each Other**

Why can’t you just have a normal morning, for once?

When you woke up, annoyed and dead tired of the world, you found a large, attractive man looming over your form. You bit down a scream, clutching the sheets closer to you. “W-who are you?! What are you doing here?” You can feel your phone wedging between your thighs as your eyes found his dark orbs penetrating your gaze.

After a while, he answered you. “Akande Ogundimu.” He simply said and your jaw dropped. Doomfist..? No, wait. “...D-did we do it..?” You questioned as you looked down in embarrassment. You almost wanted to smack yourself for asking such an embarrassing question if not for your curiosity taking over. Doomfist or Akande or whatever he wants to be called right now, looked amused.

“As far as I know,” He had a naturally deep voice. You found yourself internally swooning. “We have not.” And for some reason, you were disappointed, but of course as a mentally sane person you did not let that show on your face. You coughed as you sat up, trying not to look at his eyes.

Okay, so the Successor from your game is here. Nothing weird about that. You were about to ask him why he’s here when he interrupted you. “And you are..?”

Your eyes widened as you flushed red. You bashfully told him your name, and he smiled at you.

“I believe we should get to know each other," He said coolly. "While I’m still here that is.”

* * *

**Genji Shimada / Impressive Cosplay**

You tried your very best to _not_ make a sound, but that’s difficult when there’s a man beside you, asleep, looking _exactly_ like Genji.

You slowly slid out of the bed, your mouth open in a silent scream. Did you somehow hook-up with a Genji cosplayer while you barhopped all over downtown? You can’t even remember what happened last night; it was full of laughing and tripping on your feet, and drinking; so, _so_ much drinking.

Your hand made way to your phone, dialing 911. You looked at the sleeping Genji and wondered exactly what happened. No matter what, however, your memories failed you. This cosplayer, though. You let out a low whistle as you examined the costume. You had to do a double take because _damn_ this is the most impressive costume you’ve ever seen. The metal plating looks so real. He even has the visor right.

You put down your phone because your curiosity got the best of you. If you really did have sex with this man, why is he wearing the visor? It’s not like those weird roleplay sex you’ve heard so much about, right? Or maybe he really is into that kinky shit. You gently tried to pry the visor off his face, finding it difficult to do so. Whoever made this costume was pretty thorough. It’s like this is the actual Genji-

Your fingers finally found a button that enabled you to get this visor off. With a small hiss, the metal plating came off and you found yourself face-to-face with a smirking one, someone who’s very much awake and had been watching you this whole time.

“Yo.” He greeted you, sleepily, and the visor clattered to the floor.

* * *

**Hanzo Shimada / Omurice**

You took a peek over your shoulder, to check on the man who forcefully woke you up from your sleep. But then, you heard an animalistic growl and with a yelp you turned back to cooking your breakfast.

Waking up to see the famous Hanzo Shimada sprawled across your body was nothing short of awkwardness. Of course, the first question that went through your head was “what the actual fuck” and this was first uttered out of your mouth, causing the handsome sleeping man beside you to wake up. It hadn’t been that long since then, but the first few hours of your morning were spent dodging items being thrown at you and explaining that you came in peace.

...And that this is your room, introduced yourself, told him you’re not an enemy, and somewhere along those lines you had said that he looked cute while asleep. Except this seemed to make things worse and now he demanded to be left alone while he tried to make sense of his surroundings. You agreed, since you can’t help but notice that the famous _Hanzo Shimada_ is real and here in your room.

You’d ask yourself if you were dreaming, but the archer from your game helped you realize that you were not, after throwing a lamp at your direction that is. You focused on finishing cooking your breakfast. This morning’s unintended game of catch had you sweating and hungry.

You placed the rice on a plate, and the finished egg omelette on top. You peeked over your shoulder again and, after seeing him reasonably calmed down, breathed a sigh of relief. “Uh, hey.” You began and his head snapped at you, that ever present frown creasing his features.

“Breakfast is ready.” You placed the plate on the table, closer to his side. You motioned for him to come sit with you, and he begrudgingly complied. “Sorry if this is not to your liking, I haven’t shopped for groceries for a long time now.” You said as you poured yourself some coffee. There was already a glass of water at his side of the table, as you weren’t sure what he’d like to drink. You have a sneaking suspicion he’d like sake though.

The man was quiet, but cautiously ate the food anyways. You didn’t try to get any from the plate, so you opted with toast and butter. You ate in silence, and after a while, you heard him clear his throat.

“...It’s acceptable.” He said between mouthfuls. You smiled at him.

* * *

**Junkrat aka Jamison Fawkes / Ticklish**

You didn’t know which woke you up first; that annoying, but seemingly familiar giggle, or the smell of something burning.

You jumped out of bed anyways. You were afraid that whatever it is, it might rig the fire alarm. “Oy, what’s your name, mate?” A voice sounded and you quickly turned to it, surprised that somebody’s in your room. A lanky young man stood beside your bed, half-naked, covered in soot and his hair seemed to be on fire.

You stared at him in horror. Had someone followed you to your room? In your shameless drunken stupor you almost forgot to lock your door and someone wandered in? “W-who are you? What do you want?” You managed to stutter out, forgetting that he asked you that question earlier on.

The young man looked around in a jittery manner, and for some reason he seemed oddly familiar to you. “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?” You were almost surprised that you cannot even remember a guy as crazy-looking as this one. You wouldn’t even be able to forget that.

“Ah! Where are me manners,” He brought up his right hand, you can see that it’s a weirdly shaped prosthetic. “Jamison Fawkes, scientist, inventor-extraordinaire!” He gave you a toothy grin, and your suspicions were confirmed.

“Junkrat?” You incredulously stared up and down his form. “Wha...How?”

“So, you knew me, eh?” He looked at you, interestedly. “But I don’t know you.”

You quickly told him your name, but honestly, you just wanted to find out why a game character is in your room right now. Or maybe you’re just dreaming. You circled the guy, your hangover leaving you immediately as you checked his entire body. Junkrat looked at you with odd fascination, his eyes glassy and almost feral-like.

You poked the side of his ribs and he flinched. “Oy! What’s that supposed to be for?” You blinked. You did it again and he backpedaled. “Oh no no, mate. You ain’t doing that to me.” He almost looked afraid and an overwhelming urge to dominate this unknown fact had you attacking his sides with your fingers. The Junker squawked as he tried to pry you off amidst his incessant giggling and the two of you fell to the ground, laughing.

* * *

**Jesse McCree / Smooth, Silky, Buttery**

You felt warm and so deliriously pleasant, that you can’t help but snuggle further into the covers of your bed. Your back however, met a strong and kind of  _meaty_ wall that you gawked the moment you saw a sleeping, Jesse McCree look-alike.

Your face burned in embarrassment. The fact that you can’t remember last night’s activities made you grasp straws on what exactly happened. Were you so drunk you had sex with this handsome hunk of a guy? You quickly dispelled those thoughts as another question popped into your head.

Were you so hungover that you thought this guy looked exactly like your video game main and crush, Jesse McCree? You grasped your mouth to cover up that likely scream you were about to make. You were so deep in thought that you didn’t notice the man looking at you with an amused expression.

You looked up, seeing his handsome face, and quickly looked down, your own burning red. The two of you didn’t say anything. In fact, it seemed like he was waiting for you to say something. “Hi.” You quietly said, hiding your face with a blanket. The man before you drew a deep, hearty laugh.

“Hey, there darlin’.” Oh god, _his voice._ Smooth, silky, buttery. You could go on and on, but that doesn’t change the fact that he even sounds exactly like McCree.

You pulled the blanket closer to your face, and a gentle hand tried to pry it down from you. “What’re you so shy about?” He slightly teased and you suddenly felt faint. You thanked whatever god out there who helped you score someone this unbelievably sexy. But then again, you still felt very warm and kinda sweaty. You looked down to see your fully clothed body.

And now you’ve very confused. The Jesse look-alike was also fully clothed, and now that you were paying attention, you noticed that he’s wearing the clothes that _the real_ Jesse would wear; he’s also wearing the same hat. You would know this, since you main him, but...this can’t be _him_ , right?

You were deep in thought again, and the man beside you grinned flirtatiously. “While I’d like to snuggle with you more,” His calloused fingers brought your face closer to him. “Would you tell me, kindly, how I got here?”

* * *

**Mei-Ling Zhou / Misunderstandings**

You sighed, annoyed that you kept having dreams (or nightmares, sometimes) of waking up beside people from your game. It’s not as if you’re that much of a catch, no. You were just too damn lucky. This time, you snuggled beside a very comfortable looking Mei-Ling Zhou, the supposed actual face of Satan in the game. You’d scoff at their accusations right now; this woman beside you looked nothing like a demon.

In fact, you lowered yourself to completely embrace her form, this woman is just one lovable, cuddle bear. You just wanted to keep sleeping and ignore your day duties for the rest of your life; as long she’s here by your side.

However, unlike the rest of the characters in your dreams, this one doesn’t seem to like being in bed with a stranger.

You heard a surprise scream and your eyes shot open, and suddenly a loud smack seared across your cheek, as well as a slew of Mandarin words and curses. You blinked rapidly; well that slapped the sleep off of you. “W-who are you?! What are you doing here?” Mei screeched and you held your cheek, suddenly feeling very ashamed. You of all people would know how it feels to have a stranger in your bed, no matter how attractive or cuddly they are, and that still doesn’t excuse you from being so close to them.

You let out a strangled cough, looking at anywhere but her. “S-sorry. I honestly thought I was dreaming.” You told her your name as you confessed, albeit slowly as you just realized the massive headache you’re feeling right now. You winced; this is not a good time be hungover.

The woman before you was wearing her pajama skin, Pajamei, as the game affectionately calls it. You’d gush at how adorable it is if not for the still awkward silence penetrating the morning air. You looked at her again, noting her frazzled hair and dingy glasses. You carefully leaned forward, hand reaching for her spectacles as you fixed it for her.

“There you are.” You smiled and the woman before you raised a brow, before smoothing her hair, suddenly acting like the shy and cute Mei you remember and main.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” She simply said, pouting, and you laughed, saying you will. After breakfast.

* * *

**Pharah aka Fareeha Amari / Handcuffs**

“For the last time,” You let a loud, exasperated sigh. “I’m not from Talon.”

For some odd reason, you were handcuffed to your bedpost. You find this to be extremely kinky, if not for the woman who did this to you.

Said woman was there standing before your bed, in all her blue armor and glory. “I don’t believe you.” She said, coldly and you sighed once again.

You honestly don’t have time for this. Your head was throbbing and your stomach grumbling. You’ve been having recurring dreams of your game’s characters coming into life, and you almost always thought they were real. So when you woke up to see Pharah before you, you couldn’t help but call out her name. It was a big mistake on your part. She was so surprised she lunged at you, forcing you back onto bed, and cuffed a pair from god knows where to your bedpost. Your initial thought was that you’re not ready for some morning quickies and kinks, but this Egyptian was just hell-bent in interrogating you if you’re a Talon spy or not.

You stifled a yawn. At this point, you can just close your eyes and go back to sleep; maybe, when you wake up, it will all just be another dream. “Hey!” You heard her yap and snap her fingers in front of you, and you grumbled incorrigibles under your breath. “Don’t fall asleep on me now, I need answers!” You’re reminded of how much of a hard-ass and a stickler for the rules she can be.

You should know, being her main of course. “I have a name, you know.” You whined.

“Oh, and what is it?” You told her your name. She didn’t look the least bit impressed and that subconsciously hurt your ego.

You checked your clock to see that it was already half past nine. At the same time, however, a loud rumbling noise penetrated the still morning air. The both of you locked eyes, her face turning a deep crimson color as it came from her.

“Um,” You didn’t know if you should talk at this point or not. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge.” You softly said as stalked away from you, face still blushing red.

* * *

**Reaper aka Gabriel Reyes / One Good Day**

You groggily sat up from bed as you tried to recall what happened last night. You managed to win your ranked matches, but you weren’t feeling happy at all. Maybe it’s because of all the salt your teammates were giving you, for being a Reaper main and not following the GOATS tactics. You really tried working hard to not disappoint your teammates, but they kept screaming at you through your headset that you should be a tank and to stop stealing all of the Play of the Games. You couldn’t help that the shotgun wielding edgelord was super buffed from the last patch notes.

You debated going to play again, to practice for a spot in a certain e-sports team, when the door to your room opened and a figure walked in. You were shocked that firstly, someone is in your apartment, and secondly, he is dressed like...Reaper?

The hood, the cloak, the mask and the build...what the actual fuck? “Um,” You began, your eyes wide and blinking so rapidly. You were too shocked, however, to even form words.

Same for the guy right in front of you. You can’t tell his expression from the mask, but he kinda looks...apologetic? “...I answered the door for you.” He finally said, and this caused your heart to stop. He even has the same voice.

“Your...landlord came by. Got scared when he saw me.” He simply said as you continued to stare at him. After blinking a few more times, and pinching yourself that this wasn’t a dream, you got up from bed to face him completely.

“I’ll apologize to him.” You lamely said. You honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. “J-just to be clear. You...You are Reaper, right?” You can feel your embarrassment flood your insides as you looked away.

He didn’t answer immediately, but you did see him nod slightly to your query. You let out a small cry of relief as you walked towards him, closing the gap between you two. You can see that he immediately froze; he wasn’t expecting you to get so close, and to a stranger nonetheless!

But you stopped just right in front of him, just close enough to see the battleworn tears on his clothes and the nicks on his mask. You really don’t know why you’re doing this, but you were already having such a shit week, dealing constantly with people’s troubles at work and even in your games, that you can’t help but crave somebody’s touch right now, even if it’s coming from Reaper, who may or not even be the real Reaper.

You didn’t realize tears were already falling down your cheeks as your shoulders shook uncontrollably, the stress of everyday life crashing down upon you. “I’m...I’m sorry.” You apologized through broken sobs. The man before you didn’t say anything else; he kept watching you break down right in front of him, and he’s wondering why he’s even caring.

You gripped your mouth to keep it all under control; you tried to forget the memory of people’s uncomfortable stares at you and your teammates harsh words and insults, but after this bad week, all you ever wanted was just one, good day.

A slow, hesitant hand or claw, however, made way to the back of your head, and you can feel yourself leaning onto his hard chest into some sort of awkward hug. You tried to squirm away as you didn’t want your tears ruining his clothes, but he kept you there, safe and sound. He himself didn’t know why he’s doing this to a total stranger, but even he would understand the pain and troubles of living.

* * *

**Soldier: 76 aka John Francis ‘Jack’ Morrison / Sir, Yes Sir!**

You grumbled as you dumped your dirty clothes in your hamper. That should be the last of them, and you needed to do laundry anyways. The weather man on the telly’ said it’ll be a sunny day today, so you might as well take advantage of that and--

Wait, why are you doing laundry and being responsible so early in the morning?

Your mind wandered to the events that happened a few hours ago. You were lounging around in your bed, content with just sleeping in, when the door to your room suddenly slammed open and that blaring sound of an airhorn rang and shattered the morning peace. “Up and at ‘em, soldier!”

You yelped as you rolled off your bed and scrambled to get up, your body stiff and pumped with adrenaline as you stood in attention. You were briefly reminded of a certain scenario in the army, and you didn’t understand why you’re even doing this in your own apartment in the first place.

A man in red, white and blue marched inside, and your sleep-deprived mind failed to notice that this is Soldier: 76, and he’s acting like he owns the place. “Good, you’re awake.” He nodded in an appreciative tone. “Look at this mess!” He gestured to your room, and it was indeed messy; clothes, either clean or not, were strewn everywhere. Your books were scattered on your desk as well as the wires of your gaming setup were all bunched up.

You finally clawed your way out of your sleep-induced mind as you looked at the man questionably, “Wait, who the hell are you and where did you get that airhorn?” You mouthed off, and in an instant he towered over your face; his red visor glowering with brilliant intensity.

“Are you talking back at me?” He _growled_ at you, and you find that increasingly disturbing.

“N-no, sir..!” You snapped back to Private Cadet mode. The soldier huffed in annoyance.

“Good, now get to cleaning your quarters!”

“Sir, yes sir!”

And so you found yourself cleaning your room because some stranger barged literally into your room and into your life. You didn’t have time to think how ridiculous this is, how your main Soldier: 76 is here barking orders and you were just listening to them without any verbal complaints. You found out, as you were sorting out the wires of your gaming desktop, that Soldier took base at the kitchen, busily doing whatever he seems to be doing. You must still be dreaming; there’s no way your main is here and cooking you breakfast.

You finished sorting out the laundry at your bathroom when you came back to the smell of mouth-watering breakfast. The man peered at you from his visor, and silently motioned you to take a seat.

You did so, slowly and cautiously. “...Sorry about that.” He began, in a surprising calm voice. You picked your utensils, silently eating your food and listening to him apologize. This scenario oddly looked like a parent throwing his pride away to apologize to their brat of a child. “I guess old habits die hard.” He sighed, frustrated that he only realized this now.

You gulped down your food, amazed at how delicious this is. You quietly told him your name, and he said that he already knew. You tilted your head to the side, while you were sleeping he took the liberty to check your computer for your identification, surprised at how old that thing is. He then continued to explain that he honestly doesn’t know what the hell is happening and why he is here. 

You just looked at him while he tried to explain things. So far, in your complicated dreams, he was the only one who ever extensively questioned on why this is happening. You’d happily offer your opinions, but for some reason, you’re content on just letting him talk.

You smiled at the thought, and he paused to raise an eyebrow at you. It was just so like of 76, to care about the others’ well being before himself, like the dad that he really is.

* * *

**Sombra aka Olivia Colomar / Breaking All The Walls**

You woke up to the sound of keys tapping and clicking incessantly.

You glowered at the thought of buying yourself that mechanical keyboard. It looked cool and all, but for this particular morning, while fighting this stupid hangover, you just wanted to throw it out of your window.

You suddenly shot out of your bed, your eyes checking your desktop. Sure enough, somebody is there, using your PC, but the fact that somebody is _here_ in your room, nonetheless, makes things a little bit difficult. “H-hey! You can’t be doing that.” You managed to croak out your voice, annoyed that it’s sore.

The figure by your desktop, however, didn’t even look at you, more or less stopped. “ _H_ _ola!_ ” In her exotic accent you heard your name was uttered, and you tilted your head to side, confused that she knew you.

But then again, as you surveyed her form some more, your gut tells you that you should know this person. The flashy, purple clothes, her parted hair as well as that hot accent. “Sombra?” You blurted out, almost exclaiming it if not for your hungover state.

She said your name again, with an impressed tone in her voice. “So you do know me. That confirms a lot of things.” She whispered as you slowly walked towards her.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m in a different dimension right now. This game called ‘Overwatch’ here?” She pointed the mouse clicker on the game’s icon and clicked on it. “To think that I’m a video game character. _Dios mio_ , Gabe’s going to flip.” She cackled to herself as the game screen loaded and she watched Winston’s introductory video.

“Hey,” She looked at you with a knowing smirk. “Teach me how to play.”

* * *

**Symmetra aka Satya Vaswani / A Pleasant Reality**

You briefly stared down the Indian in a mixture of amusement and exhaustion. “Alright, one more time.” You then gestured to your calendar on the wall, by your fridge. “It’s the year 2019. And no, I’m not joking.”

You thought it was funny that the characters in your dreams were starting to get conscious of real-world problems, but with Symmetra, it’s under a whole new level. She had stared down the calendar, her expression never changing. “...I believe I am dreaming.” She declared, and for once you silently agreed with her.

You woke up to seeing her toying with your stuff, picking apart your books and clothes, amazed at how old the things are and how hurt this made you feel as you exchanged introductions. Things were...cordial, so far. She was acting rather ordinary about things that you started asking her is she’s alright.

“Why would I not be?” She huffed as she frowned at you. “This is all merely a dream, after all.”

You whistled to yourself while pouring tea into two mugs. “For someone who bends reality to her will, I could understand you’re pretty chill at these things.” You said and you didn’t see her flinch.

You settled the mugs on your dining table and proceeded to wolf down your breakfast. She didn’t move, her mouth curling in disgust. “Ah, shit. Sorry about that.” You quickly apologized, grabbing a napkin to wipe your mouth. “I forgot that you don’t really like messy stuff.” You gave her a nervous laugh as she stared at you.

“Something still on my face?”

“How come you know so much about me?” She demanded and you looked surprised. Ah, it does make sense she’d be suspicious. Even for someone in her dream, you know an awful lot about her.

You placed down your utensils on your plate, as you sheepishly rubbed the back of your head. You honestly don’t know how to explain this. “I...main you, actually.” You said, and realized that sounded creepy.

You debated your life choices there when Symmetra tilted her head in confusion. “You...main me?” She audibly questioned and you were forced to nod at her. You then explained to her about your game, and how you came to know about her. You threw in quick apologies for learning about Vishkar and her tech, for knowing each and every one of her abilities. You didn’t stop talking until she put out her hand, the other one grasping her head.

You had stopped, worried that she won’t be able to take it all in. “So all of this…” Symmetra gestured at your room. “Is my reality right now?” You didn’t know what else to do but nod. There’s no point in hiding stuff from her.

She didn’t say anything after a while. You tried to get a read out of her to no avail. It wasn’t until later on in the day, when you started cleaning up your breakfast plates, that she approached you, timidly.

“You know everything about me,” She began, determined. “Now let me know everything about you.”

* * *

**Torbjorn Lindholm / Fix It Please**

You were livid, not so much as the dwarf next to you, but your anger comes first.

While you were sleeping, this piece of shit went around your room, picking apart your stuff. He first started on your desktop, as it was the most technologically advanced thing in the area. Your custom PC parts were sprawled all over your room and you can’t help but groan and cover your eyes, chanting your wish repeatedly for this to just be one crappy dream, and that you’d wake up and be happy, for once, that is.

But nooooo. You grumbled as you surveyed your kitchen next. You didn’t understand why he’d take your stove apart, but then again, you knew Torb hasn’t seen a gas stove in, like, forever. Maybe his wife’s great grandma had one, but that doesn’t concern you right now. “I can’t believe,” You seethed through gritted teeth. “You’d do this in a stranger’s home.” Your voice was deadly and quiet, enough to strike fear into the man’s aging old heart.

He coughed as he tried to look like he was unaffected. “...Don’t worry, I’ll fix it all up.” He said, in small voice as you snapped your head towards him.

Oh, he better. You were this close to just hauling his entire body out of the window the moment he became interested in your washing machine.

* * *

**Tracer aka Lena Oxton / Above And Beyond Time Itself**

Now, you’re very much interested in Tracer.

Not in the way you think of course. You shook your thoughts aside, willing that unspeakable blush away from your face. But if there’s anyone out there who can explain these weirdass dreams of yours, it has to be from someone who can technically jump through time itself. And you watched enough science fiction and anime to know that she may have some inkling to that.

Tracer, however, doesn’t seem to have the same mindset as you. “Nope, sorry love. All of this time-travelling mumbo jumbo is something only Winston and Angela know about.” She said in her infectiously cheerful voice, that you can’t help but smile amidst your obvious disappointment.

Unlike your previous dreams, Tracer just _suddenly appeared_ while you were in the shower. But then again, _that is just so_ like Tracer to do such a thing. You had yelped, using your shower curtain to cover yourself up; the sight of that familiar yellow spandex and chronal accelerator caused you to double take.

The Brit, though unfamiliar with the technical aspects of time travel itself, was very much interested in your time as well. She was the only one, out of all those unusual dreams of yours, who didn't freak out the moment she knew she's in a different world. She told you how she had yet to jump into different dimensions, and this was such a first to her. In fact, she was excited to know the world was different, and in some cases, _better_ than hers right now. “A world where Overwatch is just a video game…” You can see the far-away look on her face, and suddenly you didn’t want her to know of it.

She laughed off your concerns, at least glad that you somewhat care. “I won’t let it get to me, love. Now, can you show me my character and how you play?” She was ecstatic, and you happily showed her how you play her as your main. Not only that, you showed her what your everyday life looked like. Your home, the gas stove, the slow internet connection, your non-electric car, paperback books and disposable cameras. She asked you so many questions and you compared answers with her to see the differences between your world and hers.

The implications of time travel can be a bit wonky at times, but spending this day with Tracer, out of the millions of chances time has for you, was something you’ll make sure you never forget.

* * *

**Widowmaker aka Amelie Lacroix / Aphrodisiac Bomb**

When you woke up to see your eyes blindfolded and the world a hot, sticky mess, you were forced to make due with all four other senses on hyperdrive. You can’t move your legs, nor do you feel them; your body was just straight up heavy and drugged. You’ve never experienced a hangover this bad before, but most importantly, you are quite sure somebody else did this to you.

You can hear faint movement around you, your ears picking up the slight sound of someone sitting down. “Someone there?” You barely croaked out, your throat a little too parched from last night’s party.

Try as you might, the room was silent once more, devoid of the life your sensitive ears have heard. You were getting desperate; you can’t stand being left alone in your hallucinations now. “No, please! I know you’re there.” You begged for some sort of reprise . Your bones creaked, your muscles sore, your skin a little too tight against the restraints on your ankles and wrists. The air was just so still and intoxicating, that your hips bucked wildly, edging the waistband of your pants off just to feel less restricted than you already are.

You can feel your heartbeat speeding up when you finally picked up the sounds of life that were indeed in your room. Your mouth unconsciously started to drool; a thin line of saliva dripping down the crevice and down your chin. Your entire mind and body was wrapped completely within this mystery person’s grasp, and the thought alone was very exciting.

“What is your name?” A feminine voice spoke out, and you were so desperate for skinship your body reactively lashed against the restraints. A low chuckle emanated from that voice, and you were half-panting, half-sobbing from this torture.

Your mind was too foggy to clearly think in this situation, and in the end you told her your name. She sounded a little too normal, almost bored, and you yearned to please her in any way.

The thin cloth finally slipped from your face, gently lashing against your sweat-matted skin. Your sight freed from the restraint, you dazedly took in the form of one absurdly beautiful woman. Her skin was a purplish-blue against that sexy, latex bodysuit, hugging every curve of her body. You know this woman; you collected every single emote and skin for every kill you do; in the hopes the enemy team would ban you for potential smurfing while you yourself cackled behind the scenes, amused by their foolishness. You find yourself drinking in the sight of this woman, anticipating her every move.

And when her hand drew forward to your eager jaw, pulling you closer to her, your lips twisted into a dreamy smile. “Hello,” You purred. “Widowmaker.”

* * *

**Ana Amari / The Most Important Meal**

Waking up from your sleep was something you seem to dislike, nowadays. Sometimes, you hoped you would never wake up again; to quietly slip away since no one would care anyways.

You sighed as you pried the covers off your exhausted body. Immediately, you noted the thin, red lines on your forearms, reaching all the way up to your shoulders, while several small gashes lay parallel on your wrist. You lowered your sleeve over it; you’d add another notch right before you go to sleep.

Today will just be another day, doing the same boring and mediocre stuff in your attempt on living. You ran out of things to do; you stopped eating breakfast and opted to just sit on the floor for the whole morning. You should be doing work, or reading up on your material; at least go out and experience sunlight straight from the actual sun and not from the blinders on your window.

But then again, you’re just so tired from living. You tried doing little acts of pain. Starvation was one thing; it’s why you started skipping breakfast. Jaywalking, pissing off persons of authority, standing too close to the ledge, excessive drinking, buying the wrong prescription, and finally paper cuts. You settled on those, before moving on to actual bladed objects, hence the self-inflicted bar code on your wrist.

You soon realized, however, that you’re not alone in your home. Your stomach started growling at the faint smell of melted butter and the sound of bacon crisping. You froze, your hand gripping your doorknob. Somebody’s using your kitchen, cooking _breakfast_. No, more than that, there’s somebody there. You don’t remember anyone else coming home with you last night.

You gently pushed the door, peeking through the small sliver of an opening. Indeed, there is someone there by the stove, and from the looks of it, they’re making quite a big batch. Does this mean they’re not the only ones here besides you? You gulped. You feel slightly scared and apathetic at the same time; getting murdered wasn’t exactly in your list of to-die for.

Just as you debated on your life choices there, they called out to you, “Good morning. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to wake up.” It was a kind, warm, and motherly voice.

A voice you’re so familiar with. Actually, you haven’t heard her for several months, when you started shutting yourself away from everyone and everything, your favorite game included.

But no way...that’s just not possible, right?

The figure finally turned to face you, spatula in hand, and your jaw dropped. “I’m almost done here, why don’t you sit down?” Ana Amari said, a friendly smile on her face. You almost wanted to run to her, demand if this is some kind of joke; what kind of roleplay is this with a total stranger? You were about to do that, but something made you stop.

You gingerly walked towards your dining table. You took a seat while the famous Ana Amari from your game settled two steaming hot plates on the said table. Your portion, consisted of the usual bacon and eggs and some kind of falafel looking dish, was significantly bigger than hers. “Had to,” You found her staring at you. “Since it doesn’t seem like you’ve been eating well.”

And then the both of you awkwardly ate breakfast together. You wanted to say something, that this is absurd and you’re having breakfast with a stranger who’s technically not a stranger to you after maining her for so long. But then again, this falafel is out of this world. You were able to finish your plate before she did.

She was looking at you as you scarfed it all down without a single word out of your mouth. “You want seconds?” She quipped as you paused, before nodding silently. At this point, you’re acting like her own kid. You wanted to laugh how silly that sounded. But then again, anything can happen in this dream.

You took this moment to stare at her too. You noticed how she even barely touched her food, and you wondered why. “...Ana?” You tentatively called out to her, and for a moment, you thought you saw surprise briefly flash through her eyes before disappearing completely.

She sighed, and you mused whether this was a dream after all, “Let me treat your wounds first,” She gently touched your arm, rendering you frozen on the spot. “And then we’ll talk about it.”

* * *

**Baptiste aka Jean-Baptiste Augustin / Thank You, Baptiste!**

You flashed a tired grin into the camera. “So, that’s Baptiste, folks! Hope you enjoyed today’s video, gonna have to sleep it all off now.” You forced a chuckle before signing out of the streaming website.

You stretched your arms, groaning at the sound of your joints popping back in place. You’ve been recording for almost sixteen hours. That’s around...er, a lot of games, for testing out the new Support hero with your friends and some fans. You were quite the famous streamer for your game, and these days you seem to be the only popular streamer around who’s still active and pumping out the Overwatch videos on a weekly basis.

This is all because you still love this game, regardless of its, well, toxicity. But as someone who’s been playing for so long, you learned to get around it by not lowering yourself to that level. After trying Baptiste for so many times now, you’re confident that he’ll start breaking the meta soon enough, and get rid of the obnoxious GOATS tactics once and for all.

Honestly, paring his ult with Orisa’s and Ana’s on a Bastion with a shield? That’s going to break the game, again.

You looked at the clock beside your desktop. Almost 7. You slowly got up from your chair to fix yourself some coffee. While sleep is a godsend right now, you still have work to do, and coffee will wake you up for another twelve more hours, give or take.

Your knees were wobbly as you made way to the kitchen. You quickly poured yourself a cup before it gave way; there’s a limit to how much your body can take, after all. You downed the cup in one go, before opening the fridge for a Monster. You’re serious. While your body has a limit, work does not. “It’s just a sip.” You muttered, and before you can even pop it open, for some reason, it disappeared?

You blinked. Maybe it’s your exhaustion, finally getting to you, and you’re hallucinating. Or maybe it’s because of this tall ass dude who _magically appeared_ beside you who took away your drink, or maybe it’s a bit of both.

You’re hallucinating and the man who took your drink is Baptiste.

You surveyed the man up and down. Okay, maybe you are finally at the end of your rope. You’ve been playing his character for such a long time you’re even seeing him in real life. “I don’t think you should be drinking.” The man who looks and sounds like Baptiste frowned at you, and you almost glared at him through bloodshot eyes.

“I don’t know what the hell’s going on or how you got here,” You started as you sluggishly tried to reach for the can. “But if you don’t give me my drink I’m gonna--”

Your hand grasped air, and suddenly, the room started spinning. _Uh oh._ Time’s up; and while caffeine can only do so much, you can feel your entire body slumping down and your vision blotting out.

You expected to hit the linoleum floor, if not for a set of strong arms catching you just in time. You can hear him sighing in the background, “Why is it that I get the problem kids all the time?” You heard him grumble as he offered you his shoulder to lean on.

You whined rather incoherently when he started moving you back towards the bedroom. You were gently placed in your bed, trapping you underneath the sheets. “Get some rest.” He said, and all you could do, in your sleep-deprived state, was to nod mutely.

“Why, thank you Baptiste! Oh! You’re welcome!” Was the last thing you heard from him before drifting off into a deep sleep.

* * *

**Brigitte Lindholm / Questionable Hospitality**

You never realized dying in your sleep can be so outright terrifying. That was it, until you woke up to something lodged onto your windpipe itself.

You shot up from bed, gasping and coughing, as you massaged your sore neck and your equally hungover head. You found that an arm had snaked around your throat, said arm leading all the way up to one, beautiful young woman, sleeping soundly beside you.

Your eyes bulged from your sockets, as heat flushed your cheeks. Last night, your friends took you out of the house to start acting like the partying adult they claim you to be. And while you tried your best to seem like you gave in to peer pressure, a glass of some terrible moonshine and one suspicious brownie had you knocked out for the rest of the night.

You glanced at the woman beside you. To think that you finally got laid, and you don’t even remember what happened last night! You groaned at the thought of your friends probably jeering and congratulating you at the same time right now.

Because this is your first time, you honestly don’t know what to do in situations like these. Do you let her sleep in or wake her up and make things even more awkward? Is this one of those ‘one-night stands’ or did something serious happen while you were accidentally high? You wanted to tear your hair apart for your low intolerance and inexperience.

You carefully slid off the bed and silently made way to the kitchen. This woman, though adorable, cute and _kinda familiar_ , may just be a fling, but you’re not about to let her off without some food in your stomachs, not after bringing her home with you from last night’s party. You’re surprised that your phone wasn’t flooded with messages from your friends, but you texted them anyways, telling them of your situation and asking what happened while you were out cold.

You had just finished making the first batch of pancakes when the door of your room opened and somebody stepped out of it. “Ah,” You peeked over your shoulder, awkwardly meeting your guest’s gaze. “Good morning. Sorry about this, I don’t really go out that much.” You pointed at the lack of bacon and motioned for her to sit. You didn’t see that she seemed hesitant but complied anyways, pulling out a chair while you stacked a tower on a plate.

You handed the plate to her, and for the first time, you finally took in her features. She seemed to be younger you initially thought, maybe around her early twenties, long brown hair tied into a ponytail, and pretty hazel eyes. You bashfully looked away as you uttered a quick prayer to every god out there for giving you this chance. She had already started eating her food when you introduced yourself. You wanted to see where this can go.

She’s attractive and all, but there’s a funny feeling to your stomach that you can’t quite place. She paused between mouthfuls, her eyes meeting yours perceptively. “And I’m Brigitte Lindholm, pleasure.” She went back to her food while you sat on your seat, blinking.

_What?_ “No way, really?” You nervously laughed. “What a coincidence, you kinda look like her too.” And somewhere, in your gut, you’re coming close.

Brigitte raised a brow. “I look like who now?”

“A video game character.” You quickly spoke, wondering if it somehow offended her. “She also goes by the name of Brigitte Lindholm.” The way she pronounced her name was also on point as well. You would know, of course, being her main and all.

Your phone beeped and you excused yourself to check on it. The first chat bubble had you confused, _“What? Don’t be so full of yourself, you went home alone last night.”_

“Oh yeah?” You typed to your friend. “And who’s this then?” And sneakily passed them a picture of the woman in front of you. Your phone beeped again, as soon as you sent them that photo.

_“Yo wtf. Who’s this Baguette-look alike?!”_

“It’s _Brigitte_ and funny you should ask, her name is also--” You suddenly stopped typing. You blinked a couple of times now, before the realization started falling into place. You dropped your phone, while Brigitte quietly ate your pancakes.

* * *

**Lúcio aka Lúcio Correia dos Santos / Music Of The Century**

Out of all your peculiar dreams, your encounter with Lúcio was strangely relaxing.

A chill person, the only loud moment you had with him was when the both of you woke up at the same time. You had thrown every item you had imaginable, screaming at him to get out or else you’d call the cops. The young man would’ve bolted already if not for your inexplicably simple lock on your door. You found him trying to undo the bolts, but as someone who was born at least twenty or thirty or so years from now and has never seen a sash lock before, you can’t help but pity him. You then tried to calm him down by apologizing for your abrupt behavior and showing him how to open the door. He looked shocked at how simple it was, and you giggled behind your hand.

He didn’t try to get out now that you seemed okay and friendly to talk to. You exchanged pleasantries; you already knew that this was Lúcio, judging from his looks and his voice since you main him, and he already knew that this isn’t his world anymore, just from his encounter with the lock. You made him breakfast and explained some things to him that he can’t seem to understand.

Like your record player, for example. “You play music with this?” He was eagerly looking through it while you nodded quite proudly. While you knew from the game how one his highlight intros more or less had the same concept, it filled you with some certain pride that he was delighted to see the record player.

You never knew how to play any instrument, but you loved listening to music anyways. “I got here some tracks from the 50’s. Ever listened to Elvis Presley?” You questioned him, and when he shook his head, you raised a brow.

“Oh come on! The King of Rock _cannot_ be dead by the 2070’s!”

“You mean he’s still alive by then?”

You two laughed at each other’s jokes as you placed the disk on the record player. Jailhouse Rock filled the room, and you were swaying your hips side to side in line with the beat when he tapped your shoulder, a hand reaching out.

You blushed as you slowly shook your head. “I-I don’t dance..!” You started, but this young man wouldn’t take no for answer. You agreed after a while, because why the hell not? It’s the year 2019, and a character from your video game, who happens to be someone from the future too nonetheless, had you sweeping off your feet as you danced wildly to the beat of Hound Dog and Stuck On You.

* * *

**Mercy aka Dr. Angela Ziegler /** **_Ich Bin Da_ **

You were crazy, and stupid, to go out drinking with your friends last night. The weather forecast mentioned of one crazy typhoon coming up, and you were only reminded of it when you came back to your house, sopping wet from the furious rains.

Now you woke up with one massive headache, and you’re not sure if it’s from your hangover or your sickness. “Goddamnit.” You inwardly cursed as you drew the covers closer to your already aching body. Clearly, you’re not fit to do any kind of work today, more or less cook your own meal or play your game.

You groaned. You remembered you have to practice with your team today. As a hardcore Mercy-main, they won’t be able to play if you don’t as well, and it’s going to suck. You’re all trying to get into the Overwatch League, but since you’re its supposed leader and the Mercy of your team, everything else depends on you. The fact that you won’t be able to practice today’s game is going to put you in an even worse mood.

Regardless, you reached for your phone to text your teammates. They’re going to be mad for sure, but your whole body’s burning; you only have yourself to blame after all. “Where is that damn phone…” You grumbled at the thought of them shit-talking behind your back.

Your hand, however, did not meet your phone. Instead, it met another one.

Your eyes widened as you swiveled your gaze (your body too tired to move) to meet brilliant blue orbs that reminded you of the sky. You froze on the spot, wondering why on earth there is someone in your room right now. It never occurred to you that this person looks exactly like Mercy, and you’re semi-convinced, in your deliriousness, that she’s an actual angel.

Magnificent gold wings stretched behind her back, bathing the room in its soft, warm glow. It was comforting to say the least, and you just can’t bring yourself to speak as you stared at her, holding her hand still. “Are you alright?” Was the first few words she spoke to you, in that lovely, heavy, Swiss accent of hers.

You tried to nod, really you did. But your head feels like a lump of lead. It hurts to move, to speak, to keep your eyes open far much longer. Your grip tightened around hers, and you worried that the angel before you might retract it.

And yet, Mercy scooted closer to you as she clasped both hands to yours, keeping you warm from the simple gesture. “Don’t worry,” She spoke once again with a gentle smile. “I’ll take care of you.”

* * *

**Moira O'Deorain / Tell Me Something I Don’t Know**

“No,” You snarled under your breath. “You ain’t Moira.” The tall woman before you, however, seemed pretty content in keeping you in the dark with her vague answers.

“Then who do you suppose I am?” She casually picked some lint from her clothes when you slammed a fist down your bedside table. “You’re a creepily accurate cosplayer who broke into my home!” You roared as she in turn chuckled.

This morning’s hangover isn’t exactly the best you had. You almost wanted to barrel down your bathroom if not for bumping into this tall Irish person in the way. The headache and your supposed vomit forgotten, you screamed and freaked out upon seeing her and introducing herself as your main from your game.

You initially thought whether you brought her home with you, or you forgot to lock your door and she just wandered in, and either of these choices suck balls since you’re calling the cops anyways.

Your hand held your phone close to your chest as you and this ‘Moira’ sat on the floor of your bedroom. You regretted not calling the cops sooner. You tried asking her some questions that legitimately made you curious. However, it seemed that your plan to interrogate her backfired; each and every one of your questions would go off-topic and all her answers were vague and unimportant.

Is this because, lore-wise, she’s from Talon? “Tell me something I don’t know.” You urged her, briefly checking your phone to see that 911 is still there on your screen. The redhead looked insulted by your question, “What makes you think you know everything about me?”

“Oh, I do. I know _everything_ about you.” Damn right you do. You’re in the Top 500 as a Moira main, after all.

She stayed silent for a while, before speaking up again. “I am the Minister of Genetics in a place called the Oasis at Iraq.”

“I know that.”

“And I know for a fact that I’m in a different world right now.”

“Maybe.”

“And that One Piece would end sometime in the next ten years.”

“Yeah so--wait, WHAT?” You nearly toppled off the bed, seeing the smirk on the Irish’s face.

“Not only that,” _Oh no._ “Dragon ball would live on until the 2070.”

And for some reason after that, the focus of your questions shifted from legitimizing her identity to asking about the animes of the future. How typical of Moira to watch all of the shows of Pokemon and expressing her dislike for the new Dragon Ball’s audience, such as their new show affectionately called “Dragon Ball ABC.”

* * *

**Tekhartha Zenyatta / Nothing To See Here**

Majority of your morning spent was usually situated in your bed; cuddling your pillows, burrowing in the sheets, sometimes watching videos from Youtube and/or YouPorn, or something even better, _sleeping_. That last one especially could’ve been a godsend for you right now, after hanging out with your friends last night at your local dive bar. You’re doing none of those, however, as you were promptly kicked out of it by a floating robot who had golden floating balls circling his entire form. It also didn’t help that it may or may not have been your favorite character Zenyatta from your game, though maybe you were just imagining it, thanks to your hangover.

You went about your day duties earlier because of this then. You did the laundry, cleaned the bathroom and the kitchen area, showered, ate your breakfast, and as you were about to go shopping for groceries, you stopped. You’re forgetting something. Your eyes flitted towards your closed bedroom door and finally remembered the image of a floating robot appearing before your bedside.

You carefully opened your door, briefly looking around for anything out of the ordinary. You’re pretty sure you were just hallucinating when you saw Zenyatta, but that can’t be possible, even for a cosplayer, right? Your eyes, however, told you otherwise at the sight of a small robotic humanoid sitting on the floor by your bed, floating balls circling his meditative trance.

At the base of his unusual sitting position, you found your unused bong, a joke gift from your college friends. It’s currently spewing out familiar green fumes.

You carefully closed your door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus fucking christ 30 or so people in one fic. I wish I was this productive towards my thesis ahaha.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed that, and I apologize if there are characters who are a bit OOC like Reaper's and Doomfist's, and that some characters have really short bits, like Hammond (hah). I really had to force myself to write or else I would never be able to finish anything huhu rip me.
> 
> Alright, I'll go back to writing Quiet now. Tell me what you think of this piece!
> 
> Cheers!


	2. Expanded: Ana Amari

You took your keys and fumbled your door open. You didn’t bother knocking, as usual, hoping to whatever higher being out there that you were indeed just dreaming and there’s no one in your apartment right now. There’s just...no...way…

“Welcome back.” A warm voice sounded from the kitchen and immediately you gulped. The woman in question inclined her head to meet your oblivious gaze; she was seated by the dining table, a kettle and a cup of tea right in front of her. “I hope you don’t mind. You have an impressive collection of tea leaves and indulged myself here.” She gestured to the drink in which you merely shrugged. You don’t even remember having an ‘impressive collection of tea leaves’, they’re most likely found at the back of the cupboards, collecting dust.

You hooked your keys and your bag to the back of the door as you bolt it shut. “Did you get what I asked?” She took a sip of her tea when you hesitated. With a sigh, you placed the groceries on the table, as well as plastic bag full of medical supplies, to which the older woman before you smiled in delight.

Her hood was down, and you got a full view of her silvery white hair in its usual braid over her shoulder. A silver bang blocked her eye-patched eye from view, and you can tell from the one with a tattoo over it was staring at you right now. “Something on my face?” Ana quipped, and you looked away to hide your embarrassment.

You still can’t believe this is happening. You thought maybe, just maybe, you already somehow died and you’re experiencing karma; not that having _the_ Ana Amari here in your home is a bad thing. But it’s also precisely that _the_ Ana Amari from your video game is here in your home right now that you still can’t wrap your head around the thought. After breakfast, she applied some measly bandages around your wrists and made you go out to stock up on groceries and basic first aid supplies.

You still can’t believe you listened to her; a complete stranger you absolutely have no idea about, but in actuality you do after maining her, as you went out to do her chores. For some reason, you _trusted_ her enough to stay in your home, alone even, and that made you feel very uncomfortable. You were getting too trustful these days, maybe this is still a dream.

You were too engrossed in your thoughts when you didn’t notice her move behind you and started guiding you to sit on a chair. Her quick hands unrolled a fresh bandage from the pack and it was her touch that drove you back to your senses. You blinked as you watched her reapply the clean bandage on your arm.

“...Ana?” The both of you were quiet, and you don’t know why that makes you anxious.

“Yes?” She didn’t look up from what she was doing, but she nodded at you to continue anyways.

“Why are you doing this?”

Your voice was soft, quivering a bit at the tension crushing your throat, and yet you knew she heard you, judging from a brief pause on her part. She finished tending to your left arm and moved on to the next one, “You’d rather I start freaking out on the small fact that I’ve been sent back sixty years into the past?” She quipped, and at her snark remark you allowed yourself a tiny grin.

“Not really,” You said as she unfurled another bandage from the pack. “I was just wondering why you’d do _this_ to a total stranger.”

“I am a sniper, yes, but I’m also a combat medic just like Angela.” You wondered if she already knew that you know almost everyone in your game. “And besides, I just can’t ignore someone in need of healing.” With a smile and one final tug, she finished rewrapping your bandages. You carefully flexed your arm and winced a bit at the dull aching pain.

The older woman then brought a hand to your cheek, and you froze upon contact. You almost expected her to reprimand you, like your own mother and every other adult out there telling you to grow up, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Concern was written all over her face as she looked at you with her deepest sympathies, “Don’t hurt yourself again, okay? Maybe this is why I’m here, to make sure you’re doing alright.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to expand on this particular piece. Maybe because I’m going through something similar.
> 
> Oh wow 700 hits. I'm kinda embarrassed that so many people are reading this, but at the same time I'm glad. Hope you liked this Ana chapter! I might expand on some characters as well if anyone requests me to do so.
> 
> Cheers!


	3. Expanded: Soldier 76 | Jack Morrison

"Can’t believe these still exist.” He muttered as he picked up a paperback book from your shelf with interest, gloved hands skimming across the well-thumbed pages. You looked up from your computer screen as your eyes tried to adjust to the brightness from your PC to the glowering intensity of Soldier 76’s visor.

“Please don’t tell me we don’t have trees anymore.”

“Don’t worry, we still do.” He said in a matter-of-fact tone that you can’t help but think it’s bossy. “It’s just that everything’s a touch screen now. Hell, even Google’s an Omnic.” He added and you mentally prayed you would never see Google in so much as a bipedal form for the rest of your life.

The rest of the day was spent in a tense manner. Soldier immediately put you to work on your desk, thinking that a simple search on the search bar and typing ‘video game character comes to life what do I/they do’ would answer this dilemma. You were half-tempted to just show him the game itself but something tells you that if you do, the whole fabric of time and space might snap and it will be all your fault for the incoming and unknown consequences. But then again, it’s not as if you _wanted_ him to come to life, so him being here is not your fault, right?

_Right?_

You cleared your throat to gather Soldier’s attention. “I found you a website.” You declared as the soldier crossed the room in long strides (you didn’t notice it, but holy hell he is tall, and _those legs!_ ) and looked at your screen from your shoulder.

You gulped nervously at the sudden close contact. His arms were on either side of you; basically trapping you between your desk and a wall of his muscled chest. You tried not to focus too much on his heavy breathing on your ear as you clicked on Soldier 76’s wikipedia page.

“Overwatch Wiki.” He first uttered, and you can see the frown etching on his eyebrows. “We have a Wiki page?”

You internally debated on telling him about Tumblr but for now, you decided against it; for both of your sakes. “Oh, yeah. You also have a ton of merchandise.”

“Merchandise?” At this, you ducked under his arm (you had to move him to wheel yourself away, though you didn’t notice him stiffening at your touch) as you approached your closet to pull out said merch. You don’t exactly see it, as his face was obscured by his mask, but his eyes widened when you dug out an exact replica of his jacket. You don’t really cosplay, but you bought it when you attended Blizzcon for the first time. It was refreshing to see other people cosplaying your main, but this jacket was the closest you had to ever representing the stoic soldier in your own way.

Said soldier was now gaping at you as you put it on, and seeing the colors draped on your small shoulders made him swallow thickly.

Doesn’t exactly help that you’re just wearing shorts and a t-shirt, your head still sporting bed hair and _you’re still wearing the damn jacket._ Good thing he has the mask on; he just hoped you wouldn’t see the redness peaking at his forehead or the way he unknowingly clenched his fists.

_Damn, you look good in his jacket._

After your impromptu demonstration, you returned to your computer to help Soldier on what he needed to know. So far, he’s aware that he’s in a different dimension; the existence of Overwatch as a video game is enough proof to him (even though he’s not happy with that).

As he scrolled through his page however, he's getting less interested in finding out a solution to this problem and more invested in learning about you, the stranger he was forced to meet after stumbling into your world. He can tell, as he knew from a certain MEKA pilot, that you're a gamer. Your bad posture, the bags under your eyes, and that unhealthy pallor of your skin indicating less days under the sun and more in front of your computer, you're definitely not taking better care of yourself.

You were surprised when he suddenly leaned back and hooked a strong arm underneath your own, hoisting you to your feet. "H-hey! What's the big idea, 76?" You sputtered as he started dragging you away from your desktop.

"We're going out to buy groceries." He said firmly. You needed fresh food, not that microwavable plastic he found in your cupboards earlier. "Get you some exercise too."

Your excuses fell on deaf ears as he literally dragged you out of your home and into the streets to your local grocer; good thing you were wearing the jacket to cover up your bed clothes. Unfortunately, the stares you received from the general public drew you to the conclusion that the both of you seemed like an odd couple wearing matching outfits. The thought brought a blush to your face as you quietly accompanied 76 to the store, his hand still unknowingly gripping yours.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit 1k hits. Thanks so much for reading! A friend requested that I expand on Soldier 76 because we’re all sinners now er I mean, soldiers; anyways just take this.
> 
> This may or may not be a self-indulgent what if piece to Quiet. But hey I can legally do this! ...I think.
> 
> Cheers!


	4. Expanded: Angela "Mercy" Ziegler

When you woke up, the absence of light from your windows indicated that it was already evening.

You sat up in bed, noting your sweaty arms and drowsy countenance. Your memory has been hazy, but you do remember getting a fever because of your stupid decision to head out on a stormy night. You briefly touched your forehead, sighing in relief that you almost seem okay for now.

You seem to be forgetting something. You know you were drifting to and from sleep, and from your hazy memories you thought you saw Mercy in them. You chuckled quietly to yourself; that’s probably a sign that you should lay off in the games for now if you’re already seeing video game characters in your dreams.

Just as you were going to throw the covers off your body, the door of your bedroom opened and in came a tall,  _ drop dead gorgeous  _ blonde that instantly took your breath away, “Ah, you’re awake.” She said with a slight accent you couldn’t quite guess.  _ Swiss?  _ “I was afraid I’d have to go out to get you some medicine. I couldn’t find any in your cupboards here.” And then she offered you a dazzling smile, one that matched her pretty blue eyes and made your heart stop.

And your mind significantly boggled. “Y-you, you’re…” You sputtered, a finger raised in a somewhat accusatory manner as you drank in the sight of her lovely form--wait, you’re not supposed to be star-struck right now!

There’s a stranger in your room! Who just so happens to look a  _ tiny _ bit like Mercy, but still! “Ah, allow me to introduce myself.” Brushing off your initial shock, she inclined her head politely. “I am Dr. Angela Ziegler, a battle surgeon specializing in the field of nanobiotics.” She greeted you like it was as natural as it can be, and still your jaw slacked and have yet to say a word, still trying to process how Angela, no,  _ Mercy  _ is here in your room.

You groaned as you clutched your head, wondering why things are so complicated that you can’t even think properly. So what if her name is Angela or that she looks like the battle angel you knew by heart? A video game character just can’t suddenly exist in your world. Is she some creepily accurate cosplayer, who got hit at the head and happened to stumble in your place?

Unaware of a pair of baby blue orbs staring intently onto your form, the doctor in her jumped the moment you held your head, a flash of pain in your features. “How are you feeling? Does your head still hurt?” She said in a worried yet professional tone, surprising you there for a moment.

“Ah, I’m fine…” You chuckled slightly as you avoided looking at her eyes. “You...you’re Mercy, aren’t you?” This time, she’s the one who looked surprised.

“Y-yes, I am. Nobody’s called me that for years,” She spoke softly. “How did you know?”

“It’s...a really complicated story, doc.” You sighed, not knowing exactly how to begin. Do you even start with Overwatch just being a video game in your world? Would she even  _ believe  _ you?

Mercy carefully observed your form. You looked conflicted, biting your lower lip with a frown on your face. Are you in pain? Maybe she must’ve overlooked your condition. But you did mention you’re fine. Did you say that so she won’t be worried?

Now she flinched at the idea. Why on earth would you think that? It’s her job to worry and heal, not the other way around. This expression and that line of thinking, however, reminded her of the organization she used to be a part of. The family that was once so precious, and still is, to her.

Without warning, the blonde reached for your hand, and instead of grasping it she merely patted with utmost affection and patience. “Rest some more, we have all the time in the world for explanations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, lord. 5k hits are you kidding me?! But then again it's been a while since I last updated. I hope you enjoyed this small chapter on our favorite angel of mercy. I will be doing a lot more of these, and one of the next requests will be about Sombra so please stay tuned!
> 
> Ah yes, with the release of Sigma, I'll also be posting something about him too.
> 
> Cheers!


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